


Illusion

by Mekina



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, First Time, M/M, Unrequited Wincest, Wincest - Freeform, bottom!Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-22
Updated: 2012-10-22
Packaged: 2017-11-16 20:35:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/543568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mekina/pseuds/Mekina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was lonely and sad and fuck, horny, and one warm, willing body was just the same as another to his drunken mind, so here they are.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Illusion

Jess is gone.

She's gone, burned to ash along with every other remnant of Sam's four years of normalcy, and he's back where he tried so hard to escape, smack dab in the middle of hunting.

When they're not hunting, Dean sneaks glances at Sam, constantly throwing him anxious looks. He knows Dean is worried about him, about how he's taking Jessica's death.

Not good, is the answer to the unspoken question hovering in Dean's eyes constantly these days.

He's tried to throw himself into hunting, to resign himself to the fact that this is his life now, but it's not what he wants.

He doesn't want hours in the Impala as Dean cranks the music up until it's still beating around in his head the next day, doesn't want meals hunched at a too small table in a diner where the only thing stickier than the table is the floor and where the food is so greasy it's almost ninety percent oil.

An endless parade of motels, each tackier and even less home than the last; hustling and fake credit cards; jobs where he constantly ends up elbow deep in blood and guts, narrowly escaping with his life again and again.

This, hunting, the lifestyle, he doesn't want any of it.

Sam wants Stanford, where all he has to worry about is paying bills and studying for tests, a place where he can go about his life without worrying that there's a monster behind every door.

Above all, he wants Jess. Sweet, smart, normal Jess. He wants her soft hair and sweet smelling skin and her beautiful smile.

It's not about leaving Dean; it never was. Dean takes it that way, though, believing Sam is desperate to get away from hunting, Dad, and above all, himself. Dean is deeply hurt still by his going to college, and Sam feels Dean clinging to him, desperate for him not to return to Stanford.

Dean would do anything to keep him at his side, anything at all. He's not doing _this_ with the intention of keeping Sam with him, though.

Dean wants this. He's face down on the bed, sheets gripped tightly in his fists as he muffles his moans in the pillow, Sam fucking slowly into his trembling body.

He knows that Dean wants this, knows it from the look Dean had in his eye when Sam drunkenly kissed him. He drank too much (he truly is the lightweight Dean accused him of being), and the grief hit him. He just missed Jess so much, and he needed...something.

Dean was there, an arm's length away on the other bed sharpening knives.

Sam staggered up and over and kissed him. Just like that. Bent down and planted a kiss on Dean's mouth just as his brother glanced up at him to see what he wanted.

"Sam," Dean whispered, "Sammy," gripping his arms so tight it hurt and muttering how he never thought, never even _hoped_ Sam would want him. His expression, god, Dean hardly even believed he got to have something for once.

Sam didn't have the heart to tell him that he didn't really want him. Not Dean. Not his rude, crude big brother with the cocksucking lips and the almost girly eyelashes. Not him.

But he was lonely and sad and fuck, horny, and one warm, willing body was just the same as another to his drunken mind, so here they are.

Here they are with Dean pushing back into his thrusts as much as he's able, a little whimpery sound escaping him as Sam hits just the right spot. "Harder, Sammy, fuck."

Sam lets his eyes slip closed, thinking about Jess and the way she looked spread out under him, moaning helplessly. It's easy to imagine, though Dean is tighter than Jess, and his voice ruins the illusion.

Dean groans his name one more time, reaching back and clutching at his sweaty thigh, just holding on. Sam presses two fingers into Dean's mouth, eliciting a surprised noise and then a moan as Dean sucks eagerly at them, tongue tracing along the ends.

He's nearly there, nearly done, and he sits back on his heels to get some leverage, shoving in even harder.

Dean takes hold of his wrist, pulling Sam's fingers free and guiding his hand down underneath him, lifting up and pressing Sam's hand to his erection.

Sam recoils, eyes flying open because that's equipment Jess never had, and he remembers that, despite the images in his mind, Dean is very male (very not Jess.) He moves his hand away, but Dean puts it back, bucking forward with pleading noises.

"C'mon, Sam, touch me. Fuck, please, been thinking about your hand on me for so long," Dean rasps.

He gives in and puts his hand on Dean's dick, not wasting any time in stroking it. The sooner Dean comes the sooner he can take his hand back.

Dean really must have been thinking about Sam jacking him off for a long time, because three pulls and he's shuddering, spurting onto the sheet and Sam's hand.

He's sure his brain nearly shuts down when Dean suddenly clenches tight around his cock as he comes, wringing Sam's orgasm from him.

Sam didn't wear a condom, didn't think to do it, and Dean didn't insist; he pulls out and sees his come already leaking out of Dean's hole, trickling messily down his thighs.

"Goddamn," Dean pants, rolling onto his back. "Not only do you have a big dick, you sure know how to use it. Bet the ladies never complain." His expression softening, he pulls Sam down beside him. "C'mere."

When Dean tries to make him the little spoon, Sam lets out a grumpy noise and rolls Dean over, scooting up against his back. He wants this illusion to keep going when he closes his eyes, and no way can he fool his brain into thinking Jess is with him if Dean is curled around him.

"Yeah, fine, Sasquatch. I'll be the little spoon tonight. Only tonight though, tomorrow it's the other way around, bitch."

He doesn't return the customary _jerk_ , too busy picturing Jess' soft breasts against his arm instead of Dean's flat chest, her long blonde hair in his face instead of just Dean's sweaty neck. Just a little longer, let him have this for a little longer...

Just before he drops off, he hears Dean whisper, "Good night, Sam."

***

In the morning, he wakes with a splitting headache and runs for the toilet.

Dean is still in the bed, laughing, and Sam lets him think he's puking just because of the hangover, and not also from the memory of what he's done.

Oh god, fuck, what has he done?


End file.
